I'm not going to call you Dad
by yesimadramaqueen
Summary: Michael catches his mother kissing someone, and well, he was NOT prepared for this. Mike/Fi; Maddie/you'll have to find out.
1. Too much

_When you're a spy, you've been trained to handle any situation. You're cover being blown in front of ten trigger-happy Afghanis with assault rifles isn't not a problem. Walking in on your mother kissing someone…that's something all of the training in the world couldn't prepare you for. _

It had been a good day. For the first time in awhile, there wasn't any shooting or violence of any kind. It was just a nice Miami afternoon and all he needed was one little file he left at his mom's house. That was it. One file.

He walked through the door rather cheerfully. Nothing could mess with his mood. A job—a well paying job—just ended and all that left was lunch out with Fi. Not even the two hours of shopping she dragged him along on ruined his warm and tingly feeling.

And then all of that circled the drain, plummeting to the depths of somewhere that had to be Hell.

His eyes. Oh God, his eyes. Surely he had to have been blinded by the sight. They couldn't take this. Too much information could be a bad thing. This was a bad thing. A bad, bad thing. Why couldn't he maintain what little complacency he had left? He never wanted to see his _mother_ kissing anyone. She was in the kitchen with someone making everything except dinner.

He wanted to say something, but the words couldn't form. Generally, oxygen is required for speaking, and at the moment he had no more oxygen in his lungs than a guppy. He would have settled for a dramatic clearing of the throat or even just a grunt. _Something_.

Instead, once feeling returned to his limbs, he shut the door to alert her and whoever she was smooching of his presence. She pulled away from her mystery man and looked at him. The look on her face was like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck.

"Michael," she choked nervously.

He swallowed and forced the words out, "Hi Mom."

The mystery man still had his back to him, and his hands on her waist. Somehow, he looked familiar. And then it all made sense.

After everything with Fi and Strickler, he felt that his mom needed some protection. Sean went home and that left the house empty. Mrs. Reynolds was a little ticked about her car, so Sam was out on the street…again. It was the perfect arrangement. Sam could have a place to crash and his mom could have someone there to protect her.

The man that was _kissing_ his _mother_ had on a tacky Hawaiian shirt and his hairstyle looked a lot like Sam's.

This. Was. Too. Much.

"What brings you by?" Madeline asked, trying to sound casual.

His eyes were still glued to the man standing in front of her. "Where's Sam?" he finally asked.

Slowly, the man turned around. Sam looked at him shamefully. "Hey Mike. We uh…weren't expecting you…"

His gaze shifted between them. They had guilt written all over their faces. The kind of guilt a five year old had when his mom caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. And boy did he catch Sam's hand in the cookie jar.

"You…and Sam…?" Michael asked calmly. All of the emotions were brewing under the surface. He wouldn't show them yet. Later, when he beat Sam up, maybe.

"Look, Mikey, I didn't want you to find out this way…" Sam tried.

"We didn't," she agreed.

Find out? How long had this been going on? The thought made him cringe, or it might have been the knife sticking out of his back.

He had nothing more to say. Not with his words anyway. His fists were itching to speak their piece, but since Sam _was_ his friend once upon a time, he'd hold back for a bit. The best move at this juncture was just to get the hell out of there. Maybe he had fallen asleep while Fi shopped for shoes and this was all a bad, very bad, dream.

"Where are you going?" Madeline asked worriedly. "You aren't leaving are you?"

"I have to go," he replied in a rush.

Sam followed him out the door and onto the lawn.

"Mikey! Don't go! I can explain!"

"Stop talking before I run you over," Michael warned once he was half in his car.

"We need to talk about this! You can't run from your problems, Mike! It isn't healthy!"

"I'm not running. I'm driving."

He stepped on the gas. Sam stopped on the sidewalk. "We'll talk later then? No?"

Madeline joined him. "That didn't go well," she grumbled as she lit up a cigarette.

"Oh yes it did. He didn't shoot me or even hit me," he paused and grimly added, "yet."


	2. But

_There is nothing more important in my line of work than allies that you can count on. Sometimes, when the chips are down, the only thing that will save your ass is a member of your team. You can trust them with your life, but that doesn't mean that you have to be their best friend or even like them. When the trust is destroyed, you're basically out in the cold with nothing._

He shut the door of the loft harder than he needed to. Fiona was where she always was, on his bed, trying on the new heels she bought. She didn't bother looking up from the pumps.

"Welcome back. Did you get the file?"

The file. He forgot the file. Damn.

"I was a bit distracted," he sighed, his ability to speak having returned on the drive home.

She moved over so he could sit beside her. He put his head in his hands, attempting to block out his afternoon.

"What happened?"

"I walked in on my mother…kissing…" he stopped to gather the strength to add, "Sam."

She kicked the shoes off and sat at full attention. "You aren't serious."

"Why would I make that up?"

"They were kissing? On the lips?"

"Yeah. More than a little bit."

She laughed. "Wow."

"It's not funny, Fi. I got the impression that this has been an ongoing thing behind my back."

"I didn't mean to laugh, but it explains a lot. Sam has been calling me nonstop for the last fifteen minutes asking where you were."

"I shut my phone off after the first ten calls."

"So you just walked in and there they were?"

"In the kitchen. I will never eat anything made in my mother's kitchen ever again. Which isn't really anything much, but…"

"What are you going to do about this?"

He took a deep breath. What was he going to do? His best friend and his mom were…he didn't want to think about it.

"I'm not sure."

"Did you hit him?"

"Not yet."

"Don't, Michael. Go easy on him."

He turned to her accusingly. "You're _for_ this? You're on their side?"

"There are sides now?"

"They shouldn't be doing whatever it is they're doing."

"Why not?"

"Because Sam isn't right for her."

Fi smiled to herself. He always had such a hard time when Madeline dated. She wrapped her arms around his upper body and set her chin on his shoulder.

"Who would be right for her?"

"Virgil was nice and not around a lot. Sam needs a woman that has cars and money. And isn't related to me. I don't see what he would see in Mom."

"Think about this carefully, Michael. When something is wrong, who do you send to stay with Madeline?"

He frowned. He knew exactly where this was going. "Sam, but Fi-"

"And how often is something wrong?"

"A lot, but-"

"The last few times something has happened, who has been there to protect her?"

"Sam. But-"

"They've spent a lot of time together in life or death situations. That brings people closer together…" she leaned her head against his. "You can't blame them if there was a spark."

He covered her arms with his own while he thought about what she said. "Yeah, but…"

"But?"

"It's Sam."

"If anyone is a threat to anyone, she's the threat to him. The secondhand smoke in that house is going to kill him before a bullet or a beer ever does."

He scowled and she nudged him. "Oh relax, Michael. I'm sure they're only blowing off some steam. It's probably only a fling. It isn't like they're head over heels in love."

"That's what I thought when we first met. I was wrong."

She was always taken off guard whenever he was sweet like that. She smiled and gently squeezed him before she reached for her cell phone. She held it in front of him.

"Call Sam. Talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Don't be such a baby, Michael. Come on. Call. Satisfy my curiosity."

She wiggled the phone back and forth. He shot her an irritated look. "Fine."

He snatched it from her. She leaned in by the phone. "Turn the volume up. I have to hear his explanation."

He reluctantly did and they waited.

"Hello?" Sam's voice asked nervously.

"It's Michael."

"Mikey! I didn't think you'd call!"

"You have one minute to 'explain' why you were kissing my mom."

"I can't explain over the phone. Come back to the house and we'll talk."

He looked at Fi. She nodded to confirm that he should. He shook his head no. She shoved him.

"Mike? Are you there?"

"Give me that," Madeline's voice snapped on the other end of the line.

"Maddie-"

"Don't argue, Sam!"

There was some static and then, "Michael, come over right now! We need to talk about this! The stress isn't good for my blood pressure."

The guilt trip. Always the guilt trip. "Fine Mom. I'll come over."

"Right now, Michael! We'll be waiting."

"Fine. I'll be there."

He hung up with a groan.

"Road trip?" Fi asked excitedly.

"Yeah."

"I can't wait to hear this."

"You shouldn't come-"

"A shipment of explosives couldn't keep me from going with you."


	3. How did this happen?

_When walking into a situation you're unsure of, you have to be prepared for anything. One of the worst things to walk into—outmanned and outgunned—is an ambush. There is nothing like an ambush led by two people that know everything about you. They know exactly how hard to hit you and where you're weak. _

"What did you bring Fi for?" Sam asked the second they walked in the door.

Attacking Fi was not the ideal way to begin the conversation.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" she snapped.

"It's between me, Mike, and Maddie. I don't see where you fit in," he replied, instantly regretting it.

Fi looked like she was about to do or say something violent, so Michael stepped in front of her.

"I'd tell her anyway, Sam."

"Fiona is more than welcome," Madeline agreed kindly as she entered the room. "Thank you for coming over, Michael."

They all cautiously sat at the table, Michael and Fiona on one side and Sam and Madeline on the other.

At first they sat there in silence, waiting for the other party to speak first. Fiona stomped on Michael's foot and motioned to Sam. He ignored the throbbing pain and the heel-shaped hole in his foot.

"We're here, like you asked, so…" he trailed off hoping that someone pick up where he left off.

Madeline elbowed Sam. He winced and quickly said, "Thanks for coming. We didn't want you to see that-"

"I didn't want to see that," Michael shuddered.

"-before we told you. We've been meaning to. Right, Maddie?"

"We have, Michael. We didn't know when the time would be right."

"Are you dating?" Fiona chimed in.

"Yeah, we are" Sam confirmed.

Michael cringed. There went the fling theory.

"We weren't planning on it happening. It just…did," Madeline shrugged as she blew a puff of smoke out the side of her mouth.

"What about Virgil?" he asked.

"Virgil isn't in Miami," she pointed out.

"What about women with lots of money and expensive cars?"

"Sam's out grown that phase. Haven't you, Sam?"

"That's right, Mikey. Material possessions were nice, but there was never an emotional connection."

Madeline smiled. "I've already got him saying what I want to hear."

"I have a way with words."

His worst nightmares couldn't have come up with this odd and somewhat disturbing plot twist.

"Are you two serious?" Fiona asked carefully. Michael shot her a look anyway. "I'm only curious…"

"We've only been together for a few weeks, but I have a good feeling…" Sam admitted with a grin. Madeline returned a wide grin of her own.

"To think that we're together, after all the bickering and exploding houses…"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Not in a million years."

Fiona's gaze switched between them. She thought that they were adorable. Michael had to suppress the urge to claw his eyeballs out so he wouldn't have to watch them make eyes at each other.

"How did this happen?" he asked, despite the voice in the back of his mind begging him not to.

"I guess that something was always here. Sam was the only one of you three musketeers that would tell me what was going on. He's stayed at the house more than you have, Michael. Something was bound to happen eventually. We didn't realize it."

Sam merely nodded in agreement.

"When it did, I guess we weren't too surprised…"

"At first we were," he laughed.

Fiona smiled at them. "I'd _love_ to hear the story of how you got together. Wouldn't you, Michael?"

His eyes narrowed. Surely his stomach couldn't take that. She took his hand and squeezed hard enough to make the bones creak in protest.

"Yeah, the story…" he agreed through gritted teeth.

Fi lifted his hand to her lips and then turned her attention to the couple across the table.

"Start at the beginning."

"Well, it started a few weeks back…"


	4. A few weeks back

_A big part of being a spy is gathering information. A lot of information gathering can come from documents and clues you find lying around a hotel room, but some of it comes from talking to people. Their stories can tell you everything you need to know. Sometimes, their stories tell you everything you don't ever want to know. _

"**A few weeks back…"**

Sam trailed behind her, carrying the various shopping bags they had collected on their outing.

One of the bad things about being her personal bodyguard was that he had to her everywhere. So far, he had pulled a tendon in her yoga class, been coughed on by numerous sick people at her doctor's office, and now his back was starting to hurt from the ten bags and boxes he had tenuously balanced in his arms and hanging from his fingers.

"What did you buy, Maddie? Boxes of led?" he huffed.

"I bought some new vitamins and some things for the house," she shrugged.

"What things for the house?"

"Michael keeps stealing all of my screws. I picked some up while you were doing one of your perimeter checks. I don't see why you have to. We're in public, Sam. What could possibly be so dangerous on in a crowded street in the daytime?"

Just as she said that, he noticed a group of men he recognized from their current job on the other side of the street.

**Pablo Martinez  
Small time mobster**

He was bad news.

**Pablo Martinez  
Bad news**

A few days back,Sam had posed as a gangster and attacked him. It was all a part of the job. The usual plan, piss them off, pose as someone that could help, and then wreck everything.

From the looks of it, Pablo recognized him as well and might've wanted to say hello with bullets instead of his words.

"We need to get off the sidewalk," Sam said calmly.

Madeline frowned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"You could say that…" he muttered as Pablo and his goons started to cross the street.

He held out his elbow. "Take my arm and act like we're just taking a stroll."

She did, and they briskly picked up pace with the mobsters trailing behind them. Luckily, the sidewalks were crowded. It was taking them awhile to get closer and no violence had occurred…yet.

"In here," he said through a smile, ducking into the biggest store they could get to.

He tossed the bags and boxes onto a chair and headed towards the back room. She went along with it, after a few complaints about leaving her things behind.

"They're almost here," Sam deadpanned when he saw Pablo and the Pablettes walk past one of the windows.

"Who? What is going on?" Madeline snapped.

"They're the bad guys on Mike's new job. I might have attacked their base of operations, busted a few expensive things, and shot one of his guys in the kneecap…maybe. They won't be happy to see me."

"What do we do?"

He mentally went through the list of exits. There were three: one to the sidewalk where they came in, one out the back, and one on the top level that led out to another store. The first was out, the back was closed off, that meant the top floor.

"We have to get to the top floor."

"What about what I bought?"

"Not now. We'll get them later."

The bells on the door jingled as they walked in. They were already there. The stairs were clear across the store and he had a pulled tendon anyway. The elevators were exposed. There went the exit plan.

He got an idea. A bad idea, but a bad idea was better than being dead.

…

Not by much.

"Maddie, you're gonna have to go with me on this. Can you do that?"

"Do what?"

Sam grabbed Madeline and planted a kiss on her, making sure that his back was facing the bad guys. At first, she froze. Sam Axe was _kissing_ her. He made a tiny gesture with his eyes towards Pablo and his gang. She nodded and got into the spirit of things.

Pablo saw them and shook his head, thinking that he must have made a mistake. Surely that bad ass Chuck Finley wouldn't be wearing a tacky shirt and making out with_ that _woman.

They left them alone and exited the store without a sound. The second she saw that they were gone, she pushed him away and smacked him as hard as she could.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

"You kissed me!"

"I had to! We never could have gotten to an exit in time!"

"We could have hidden somewhere!"

"They would have found us! It worked like a charm! They're gone, we're alive, and the job is intact. It's a win, win, win."

"You kissed me!"

"Hey, that was only for tactical purposes. Mike wanted me to protect you, so I did. The ends justify the means."

"You did it to protect me?"

"Yeah. I did. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Thank you, Sam…" she gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

"You're very welcome," he smiled as he returned a kiss on the cheek.

She kissed his other cheek. "You're a good man."

"You're one heck of a lady too," he agreed, giving her one last kiss on the cheek.

Before they knew it, they were kissing again and not for tactical reasons.

Mike was going to kill him.


	5. Great idea

_There are a lot of times when you have to accept invitations you don't want to. Sometimes it's for the sake of your mission. Sometimes it's to develop important contacts that can come in handy later. And sometimes, it's because you're forced into it._

Michael kept his jaw clenched shut to keep everything he had eaten since last Thursday in his stomach. The combination of the story and the puppy dog looks the new couple were exchanging were enough to make him pass out.

"And we've been dating ever since," Madeline finished with a brightly.

Fiona's mouth curled into a smile where her chin sat on her folded hands. "That's adorable. Isn't that just _adorable_, Michael?"

"Adorable isn't the word for it," he gritted with a forced smile of his own.

"It isn't good to keep everything inside, Mike. I've been watching those meditation videos with Maddie lately, and I gotta say that they make a lot of good points…" Sam commented.

"They do. I think that you could benefit from it," she agreed enthusiastically.

"See, it's all in the energy. You can't keep it pent-up for too long. It sits there like a heavy meal just waiting and waiting until you come unglued from the inside. Energy has to flow like a river. Negative energy out," he explained with a motion of his hand, "positive energy in."

What had she done to Sam? The cigarette smoke had to be getting to his brain.

"You're being so quiet. Don't you have anything to say?" Madeline asked worriedly.

He rubbed his forehead, attempting to find the sentences to express the bad feelings sitting in his gut. Fi picked up the slack.

"I think it's sweet that you're together. If you can find happiness with each other, why not? Right, Michael?"

He sent her a sideways glare. Maybe she should have stayed at the loft.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound sincere," his mom complained. "If you're going to agree, I'd rather it be because you're agreeing, not because she's forcing you to!"

"She isn't forcing me to do anything, Mom. I'm just not sure about this. It's…" he tried to think of the word. "Different."

"Maybe you only need time to get used to the idea," Fi suggested. "It was rather sudden."

"About that, I swear we were going to tell you. With all the jobs we've been doing lately and the mystery killer person out there, you've been on edge. We wanted to wait until you could process our relationship," Sam explained, adding, "that, and I wanted to make sure you could process with your head and not your SIG Sauer."

"Be honest with us, Michael. Are you okay with this?"

He looked between his mother and best friend. Sure, he wanted them to be happy, but the thought of Sam making his _mother_ happy sent chills down his spine. He knew that Sam was a ladies man. He had to do _something_ to make those women give him cars and whatever else he could get, and Sam doing that _something _with her…gross…

"If you're happy, I'll be okay with it…" he sighed reluctantly.

"I'm so glad," Madeline beamed. "I hoped you'd say that."

Fiona took his hand. "I'm proud of you, Michael."

He forced another smile. Sam grinned at him. "And you didn't even hit me. I was sure that was gonna be apart of your negative energy stream. Who else could use a beer?"

Fi motioned for one, but quickly changed her mind after seeing the look on Michael's face.

"We really should be going. I left a file here. I need to get that and start work on-"

"You have to go already?" Madeline pouted. "I was hoping you'd stay for dinner."

"No, we really can't. Fi and I have things to do. Right, Fi?"

It was her turn to glare. "Right. We have…things to do."

"It was nice talking to you. I'll just go get that file…"

He stood up and quickly retreated to the slick he created in his old room. After grabbing the file, he swiftly walked back into the dinning area.

"Oh, Michael," Fi began with her mischievous smile. "Madeline just had a great idea. Why don't you tell him?"

"Since you can't stay for dinner tonight, how about tomorrow night?"

"I know this fancy place that lets you keep a tab. I have one there, so I thought we could all go," Sam added.

Before wasn't an ambush. Oh no, this _was _an ambush.

"It would be a double date," Madeline continued.

Something about the expression on Fi's face screamed trouble.

"I've already said yes. We'll meet them there at eight. I know exactly what to wear. My new pumps will go perfectly with my new dress. The one with the frills."

"Right. The one with the frills. Great. We'll see you then. Fiona, shall we go now?"

"Yes. It was nice to see you again, Madeline. We're both _so_ happy for you."

She got up and walked over to him with a small wave at Sam.

They walked out arm in arm. After they got into the charger, he turned to her with a frown.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Try to enjoy this as much as I am. Our beer guzzling, womanizing Sam has found a woman to settle down with. His new sugar mommy is _your_ mommy. Do you know what that makes him?"

He started the car. "Don't say it."

"Sam is your stepfather. Which in a way makes him my father-in-law, don't you think?"

"We are _not _having this conversation."

"That's what so funny, Michael. We _are_ having this conversation."

She laughed the entire way back to the loft.

**(I've been working on this for over a month now, and I'm still not done. I've done the first few chapters, so I thought I'd post what is finished. Feedback would be amazing. And I'd love input on where this should go and how it should end.)**


	6. Just a phase

_When you're in the field, you sometimes have to be in some uncomfortable positions. Whether it's having to hide in a rat infested crawl space or romancing a secretary to gain access to an office, it's never pleasant. But going on a double date with your mom brings a whole new meaning to uncomfortable._

"You haven't said anything about my dress."

"I did."

"When?"

"Yesterday when you bought it."

"Calling it expensive doesn't count."

"You look beautiful, Fi. Please don't go overboard tonight."

"Me? Overboard?"

"Fi…"

"I'll behave."

"I need to ease into accepting their relationship. It's still a lot to take."

"You're being very mature about it," she grinned as she wrapped her arms around one of his. "I'm surprised to be completely honest."

He took a deep breath. "Trust me. On the inside, I'm not exactly okay with this."

"How many different ways have you fantasized about beating Sam up?"

"Five or six. Does running him over with the charger count?"

"I'd say so."

"Then six or seven. My favorite is the one with kitchen appliances. His hands would fit perfectly in the toaster…"

"I always loved your originality."

They walked into the restaurant exactly at eight. Amazingly, Sam and Madeline were already there. He was sure that they'd be there first. There went the prep time.

He slapped on his best fake smile and they slowly made their way over to the table.

"Michael, Fiona! You're here!" Madeline laughed excitedly. "We were just talking about you."

"Really? How about that?" Fi asked Michael pointedly.

"Yeah. How about that…" he nodded slowly.

This night was going to be worse than the time he had to get close to a Russian affiliate by using his charm, and the Russian was a man.

After a few moments of small talk between the women at the table, the waiter showed up for a drink order. He wasn't gone for three seconds before Sam and Madeline started acting like a couple.

They were holding hands, and flirting, and had that look in their eyes, and Sam was all _"You look lovely tonight, Maddie" _and she blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl…

Michael reached out and caught their waiter by the sleeve. "Eighty-six the wine and bring me the hardest drink you have."

He picked up on every little move they made, every glance they stole, and every sickly sweet word they exchanged. Even so, the meal went better than he thought it was going to. Then again, that could have been the alcohol talking. Either way, it wasn't as miserable as it could have been. They _could_ have made out. They _could_ have started discussing their after dinner…activities? Luckily, they didn't push the envelope further than it had already been pushed.

"That was a lovely meal," Fiona commented cheerfully. "I enjoyed it. What about you, Michael?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely," he agreed as he tossed back another shot of whiskey. Sam had at least three times the number of drinks he had, but of course he wasn't even slurring. His liver was used to the abuse.

"How about a nightcap at the loft? Yogurt included," she offered, giving Michael one of her _don't even try to question me _looks.

"That's awfully sweet, Fiona, but we were planning a quiet night at home. We should get going. I could really use a cigarette…" Madeline trailed off and gave Sam a small, warm smile.

"We should get going. Fi, Mike. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Give me a call if you need some hangover remedies. I know them all."

He stood up and clapped Michael on the back and then offered Madeline his arm. She took it and said goodnight one more time. Michael watched them leave, all into the touchy-feely couple walking thing, and returned to what little alcohol remained. Fiona took the glass away from him and helped him up and towards the door.

"I'm driving. Give me the keys," she ordered as soon as they reached the sidewalk. He handed them over without protest.

"You know," he began drunkenly. "I think that this dating thing with my mom and Sam is just a…just a phase. It'll pass."

Fi simply nodded and eased him into the car. He kept talking the entire ride to the loft, up the steps, and even as she walked him over to the bed. He plopped onto the edge and pawed aimlessly at his shoes, attempting to untie the black laces.

"See, Sam is gonna need more than yoga tapes and beer. He'll want more. That's only if my mom doesn't get tired of him first. It'll pass. Like a phase," he repeated. She easily pulled off his shoes and socks, moving to unbutton his shirt.

"You've only said that a hundred times since we left the restaurant," she grumbled. Drunk Michael was never too much fun. Well, not when he was talking anyway.

"And I'm right. I know I'm…I…" he stopped as he struggled with the sleeve of his shirt.

She rolled her eyes. "Pathetic. Come on, Michael. Let's get you into bed."

He let her slide the shirt off of him and toss it aside. She then held the sheets up so he could slide in. He did, and she started walking towards the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, if you're not too hung-over…"

"You're not staying? I thought you were gonna stay."

She laughed. "You're drunk."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

"I think that it would be better if I left and let you pass out. Try to get some sleep, Michael. Clear your head and accept it. Sam is your new father. Welcome him to the family."

He frowned. "Not funny, Fi. You know it's just a-"

"Phase?"

"Fling."

"Ah. This 'fling' of theirs seems to be rather serious. It must have been quite the whirlwind romance. Sam _is_ an amazing kisser, so I can see where it all started."

His frown grew into a scowl. "_Amazing kisser_? You would know this how?"

She smiled. "You remember the first case we all worked together in Miami. We had to do _something_ to make it seem like we were on their boat accidentally. Really, it's a lot like how your mother ended up with Sam. Hm, isn't that…something? Well, goodnight."

With that, she exited the loft. He fell into the comfort of his pillow, trying to think of way number seven—or eight—to beat Sam up.


	7. It could be worse

_Sometimes, you can forget that a situation can go from bad to very bad to worse in just a matter of seconds. You may be surrounded by angry guys with guns, but you could be disarmed, twenty miles from civilization, and in the middle of the worst hurricane since Noah's Ark. Or, your best friend could be dating your mother, could have made out with your ex-but-not-girlfriend, and an old "friend" could show up wanting to even a score. _

A few weeks had gone by and much to Michael's dismay, Sam and Madeline were as serious as ever. Fiona was still using the predicament to torture him daily and there was nothing he could do about it except wait for the inevitable break up with smile. If the inevitable break up _was_ inevitable. He was starting to have his doubts.

"Cheer up, Michael. It could be worse," Fi attempted. "You could be living at home and get to witness what they do when their alone. And they could be getting married or he could have gotten her pregnant—if she was young enough for that."

He practically swallowed his spoon. "Fi!"

"I'm just pointing out how it might have been worse! I'm trying to _help_ you, Michael. It's what…hmm…what exactly am Ito you? I'm not too clear on that."

"Can we talk about this at another time? I'm a little preoccupied right now, so…"

She huffed and pointedly stole a spoonful of his yogurt. They were stretched out across his bed having a yogurt and job screening picnic. He let her take the whole cup so he could go through the file on their latest job offer. He knew that she was glaring at him. He could always tell when she was, but he pretended not to notice. There was too much on his plate right now to have one of their relationship talks.

They went about their job files and picnic, completely unaware of the drama unfolding in the Westen house.

_**Meanwhile…**_

__"With those little tomatoes!" Madeline called from the living room.

"Okay, I'm on it!" Sam shouted back as he rushed about the kitchen gathering ingredients for their lunch.

He heard her laughing at something on one of her talk shows and couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. He started humming an old song they used to sing in the Navy and began dressing the salad. A loud knock caught his attention and Madeline's as well. She got up and peered out of the window.

"There's some guy out there. I don't think that I know him," she told Sam quietly. He tossed the towel he had slung over his shoulder onto the counter and slid out of his apron on the walk to the door.

The man knocked again. He looked like one of those missionaries that went door to door and asked you if you'd found Christ when you didn't know that he was missing in the first place. Sam gingerly cracked the door after making sure that Madeline was behind him.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

The man flashed his yellowed teeth in an awkward smile. "Yes, I am looking for a Mrs. Madeline Westen. Is she here, please?" he asked in a thick European accent of some kind. It was either Russian or Czech. That was a red flag, along with the two should-be-pro-wrestlers standing behind him looking majorly ticked.

"May I ask who is calling?" Sam returned calmly.

"Yes. I am friend of her son, Michael. I know him from while back. I was hoping that she know how I could find him, please."

"Well, she isn't here right now. Actually, it's a funny story. She moved out and—"

The man kicked the door in and pulled a very nice handgun from his belt. Madeline didn't have time to run, not that she would have, so she just stood behind Sam, clinging to his shoulders like a shield.

"Mrs. Westen I take it," the man said with that smile of his. "Your son is bad boy."

"Michael, a bad boy? Really?" Sam asked with a laugh. He discreetly slid his cell phone out of his pocket and took a few pictures of this guy, just in case things went the way he thought they might. "What did he do to you?"

"He come to my country, use me to get files for US government, then set me up and I take the fall. Like eh…Humpty Dumpty. I been in prison for ten years thinking of the way to make him pay for what he do to me. I hear he was burned and back home in Miami. I come here and find that he has mother here. I take her as payment for what he take from me. He will have to try to find her before I take her life like he take mine. Yes?"

She tightened her hold on Sam. He wasn't fazed just yet. "What country would that be?"

"You need not know that. I just come for his mother. So come with me, please. I want to save my bullets. They are very not cheap in this country."

"She's not going anywhere," Sam gritted through a clenched jaw.

"We are going leave with her. You can live or die, but it is going to happen. Yes?" he started to edge towards them. Sam held up his hands defensively. He wasn't about to let them take Maddie, and he wasn't about to risk both of their lives by fighting. Besides, if he did, they'd just keep after Mike. There was only one way out of this, and it wasn't pleasant. It never was.

"If you want to hurt Mike, take me instead. Mrs. Westen here isn't his real mom. She's his stepmom. I'm his father."

The man gave him a curious once over while Madeline's jaw dropped. "You're his father? Are you young for that, no?"

"I use creams. I'm not as young as I look. I found that it's all in your skincare."

"But you look not like him. She looks more like him than you."

"Michael Westen is my son. I take offense to you doubting otherwise. Why would I lie?"

He motioned to Madeline with his gun. "To protect her."

"Okay, if I'm not Michael's father, who would I be and why would I live here?"

He took a moment to think about it. He didn't look young enough to be her son and he didn't look enough like her to be Michael's uncle…

"I'll tell you who I am," Sam began. "I'm Charles Westen—you can call me Chuck—and Michael is my son. Are we clear?"

He snickered. "Okay, Chuck. I believe you. You have same attitude as your son. That is not a good thing. _You_ are going with us. Mrs. Westen stays and tells Michael we have his daddy. Yes?"

She started to protest. Sam couldn't take the fall for her. It wasn't right. What if they killed him? Before she could voice her complaints, Sam turned around and kissed her, hard, and placed his cell phone in her hand with one of his _'keep this quiet' _looks. She got the message.

"Stay here, pumpkin. I'll be okay. Tell Mikey his dad will be fine and not to _**call**_ the police. This has to stay between us or it wouldn't be a pretty _**picture**_."

She nodded sadly in understanding. He gave her a small smile and allowed the European jerk and his goons lead him outside. The door slammed behind them, and she dove for the phone with worried tears forming in her eyes.

"Michael? It's Sam. Hurry over right now."

**(Hey, sorry this took so long to update. I have exams, a crisis at work, and October is national novel writing month, so I'm writing a book right now too. This is falling sadly on the backburner, but expect updates every few weeks. I hope it was worth the wait. Ass kicking is to come, so stay tuned :) **


	8. Took

_The motto for the Boy Scouts is: "Always be prepared." It is also a great tip for any spy or ex-Navy Seal out there. If you're caught with your guard down, all sorts of bad things can happen. You just have to learn to roll with it and not die in the process._

Michael and Fiona were caught in a heated argument regarding which job to take and how to handle it. She was a fan of the job with most opportunity for violence—something about blowing off steam—and of course he was leaning towards the safer option. Just as Fi started to argue that bullets were better than therapy, his phone rang. He groaned when he saw who it was.

"Mom, I'm kind of busy right-"

"Michael?" her terrified voice responded.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already sitting up straight.

"It's Sam. Hurry over right now."

He got his keys and headed for the door. At times like these, Fiona knew to follow without question.

"What happened?" Michael pressed as he got into the charger.

"Some guy showed up at the house. I don't want to go into it over the phone."

"But Mom, I need to know-"

"They took Sam, Michael! They took him and I know that they won't just go out for a beer and salsa dancing! Just get over here now!"

She hung up on him. He put his phone into his coat pocket and stared blankly ahead at the gate. Fi studied his face worriedly. "Michael?"

"Someone came to the house and took Sam."

"Take the back roads. They're faster."

He nodded and stomped on the gas. They were there in half the time it usually took them—then again he usually wasn't really in a hurry to get over there, so that isn't saying much—and they leapt out of the car seconds after it came to a complete stop. When they walked in, Madeline was sitting at the table smoking a cigarette and downing a shot of some kind of hard liquor at the same time.

"Mom, go easy!" he snapped. She shot him a wicked glare that only a mother could give.

"How can I? Your 'friends' keep coming after me and now they have Sam!"

"Tell us what happened," he said with a softer tone of voice.

She slid Sam's phone towards him and pointed to it with her cigarette. "He got a few pictures on his phone before they left. The man had an accent from one of those European countries. Is this the guy Sam's been protecting me from?"

Michael looked at the pictures and recognized him instantly. Why did everyone have to be after him at the same time? Were they coordinating with each other? Maybe carpooling to Miami?

"No. It's not. This is Kazimir Oldrich. He's a Czech I rubbed elbows with about eleven years ago. I might have set him up and sent him to prison. Maybe…"

"He said that's what you did. How could you, Michael? Didn't I ever teach you manners? It isn't polite to send someone to jail to serve time for something you've done! Now Sam and I are the ones paying for your bad behavior!" Madeline exclaimed. Fiona went over and put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Madeline. Sam's been taken before and we've gotten him back. We'll find him. Won't we?" she asked with a fake smile.

He nodded with a façade that mirrored hers. "Yeah we will. What else can you tell me about what happened?"

"I was in the living room watching one of my talk shows while Sam made lunch. There was a knock at the door and it was the guy with the fabric name, cashmere or whatever it was. He said that he was a friend of yours and he wanted to see me. Sam tried to say that I didn't live here, but they kicked the door open and pulled a gun on us. He was here to take me to get back at you, but Sam convinced them to take him in my place!"

"How did he convince them?" he asked. Kazimir was never the strongest explosive in the case, but he was also never one to change his mind that quickly.

A look of apprehension spread across her face. "Well, he told a bit of a lie…"

"That lie would be?" he inquired, also feeling a bit apprehensive.

"He said that I'm not your mother and that I'm your stepmother. He said that…he's your father, Charles Westen. He goes by Chuck."

He rubbed his suddenly aching forehead, bringing himself to reply, "My father?"

"Yes."

"Charles Westen?"

"But he goes by Chuck."

"Who cares, Mom? It's a cover ID!" he practically shouted. "Just a cover ID…"

She blew a thick cloud of smoke out the side of her mouth. "They left me here to tell you about what's going on. They have Sam and they're going to kill him if you don't get to him. Please Michael, find him."

"Don't worry. We will," he sighed, quickly reiterating, "my father? Really?"

The phone rang suddenly before Madeline could say anything else. Fi went to answer. "Hello?" she asked. Her eyes met Michael's and he knew instantly who it was. "Michael, it's for you."

He walked over and took the phone from her while she returned to Madeline's side to offer some sort of comfort before she drank herself to death. He stepped into the other room to take the call.

"Hi," he began over the loud surroundings on the other end of the line.

"Michael Westen, good to be hearing from you. I take it Mrs. Westen has told you of today, yes?" Kazimir responded cheerfully.

"Oh yeah. I got the whole story. So how was prison, Kazimir? I hear they have rooms with a half-star rating and absolutely no privacy with big sweaty guys looking for girlfriends. Did you find a boyfriend? Did he have tattoos? I bet he did."

"Ha-ha. You're making with the humor again. I have your daddy with me here. He talk too much. Really, he's just like you."

He grimaced. Sam got to be his dad for awhile. Oh joy. "I heard that you took him."

"We did. I thought of killing him and Mrs. Westen, but then you would blame me. I don't want that. I want him to die because of you. It will be your fault and you will have to live with it."

"Oh that's nice. So I'm guessing that you have a game for me to play in order to find him before you kill him. Am I right?"

His laughter mixed with the background noise. "You are very smart. I have placed clues around the city. You will have same amount of time to find him as it took them to arrest me. It begins where we met."

"Fun. Before I go around on your scavenger hunt, I'd like to talk to him. You know, just to make sure that you haven't already killed him."

"You get one minute, then the clock start ticking."

There was a pause and then, "Hey Mikey. It's me."

"Hi," he drew in a slow breath and added reluctantly, "Dad."

"How is Maddie holding up?"

"She's good. Are you okay?"

"Oh you know, a little banged up during shipping, but over all I'm alright."

"Is there anything you want me to tell Madeline for you?" he asked, pointedly asking for any information he could tell him covertly.

"Tell her that I miss her, and I'll come home soon so we can walk around like when we first got together."

There was another pause as the phone switched hands. "Michael, time starts now. Hope to see you soon." Kazimir hung up and Michael put on his sunglasses.

"Fi, we have to get going."

She looked at him confusedly. "Where?"

"Church."


	9. I cannot wait until I get to kill you

_Being a spy is a lot like being an actor. You have to know how to lie, how to do basically everything, and you have to remember anything that has ever happened and anyone you've ever met. Every job is like a part that you play, only if you mess it up, it can have dire consequences. _

"Why are about to go into a church?" Fiona asked curiously. "I don't really think that we should be praying to God to rescue Sam when we can be out there looking for him ourselves."

"I told you that he's leaving us clues. The first clue is going to be were we first met, which was a catholic church in Prague. I can't think of anywhere else he would have left us something," he paused at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the sign above the door.

"Saint Michael-Archangel Catholic church of Miami," she read aloud. "Oh that's cute."

They walked into the quiet chapel together. It was empty, except for a nun in the front row. Michael kept going down the aisle and Fi followed him.

"Why exactly did you meet in a church?" she inquired. "What happened to warehouses or dark alleys or cafes like when we used to meet?"

"Over half of the Czech Republic doesn't have a religion. A church was less populated than anywhere else. No one would think twice to see two guys in suits talking softly in the fifth row from the back on the left," he explained as he turned down the fifth row of pews from the last one. "Everyone knows that the person in the first row wants to talk to someone and the person in the last row doesn't want to be seen. Here."

He held up a bible that had been placed midway down the pew. It opened to a dog-eared page in the book of Matthew. She smirked. "He's keeping with the M names apparently."

A verse had been circled. "As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fisherman…" he recited.

"Does he know that you have a brother?" she asked worriedly.

"No. Nate isn't even in town. If he was, he wouldn't be in the book. He's talking about something else that happened back in the old days. Our last meeting took place in a boathouse his brother owned. It was on a river."

"Then we're looking for a boathouse?"

He looked around cautiously. "Yes. We're going to look for a boathouse. We only have another three hours before Kazimir kills him."

"He said that's how long we have?"

"Not in so many words. It took them just under four hours to arrest Kazimir. He was almost across the border when they snagged him. By then, I was out of the country."

"Well, let's go find our boathouse. We don't have much time."

They started towards the door. Michael looked back over his shoulder at the nun in the front of the church. He returned his attention to the door in front of them with a forced smile. The moment they were gone, the nun whipped out an iPhone and placed a call.

"Mr. Oldrich, Westen is following the trail you left. He has a woman with him."

He laughed. "Thank you. You have done good. I am in your debt."

"You bet Mother Mary you are! That's two thousand dollars for my convent, Mr. Oldrich, and in cash. Small bills if possible. Have a good day and God bless."

He hung the phone up and turned to his hostage. "They are following the clues I left like rats in a maze. There is no way for them to know it's fake until they get there. You will be dead in three hour, Mr. Westen."

Sam stretched in his chair, testing the strength of the restraints. Given some time, he figured that he could wiggle out of them. "Please, call me Chuck. I insist," he smiled.

"Chuck. Relax and enjoy the time you have left, if you please. And no more talking. I cannot take your talking."

"Ah, come on, Euro. Do you mind if I call you Euro? I think it fits. You're obviously from Europe and I don't know you name, so…" he trailed off and added, "besides, it's better than calling you bastard. Don't you think?"

"Funny. What are you, a comedian?"

"Na, but I do know quite a few great jokes. So a Czech walks into a bar-"

Kazimir pistol-whipped him without a second thought. Sam smirked. "So you are a Czech? I thought so. It was that or a Russian, but you didn't seem tough enough to be a Soviet. Are you, Euro?"

"You don't want to make me angry, Chuck. It is not pretty," he warned.

"What can you do? It isn't like you can kill me…yet. I can annoy you all I want to. So, what do three Czechs, a plane, and a few guns make? A weak armed forces!" he started laughing. "Don't you love that one?"

He hit him again. "Knock it off, funny man. You are insulting my country!"

"Well, you helped Mike steal some files from them. I don't think you'll win patriot of the year for that, do you?"

"He tricked me into thinking he was helping my government! He said he was from Liberec! He acted like one of us! You have no right to question me!"

Sam just grinned. "I've got another one. A German, an Austrian, and a Czech are sitting around drinking beer when the German turns to the Austrian and says-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Someone get something to gag him with! I am regretting taking you and not the woman."

"Hey, I take offense to that! Here I thought were getting along so well…wait…I know! Let's sing old folk songs! You guys like bluegrass over there don't you?"

Kazimir cringed. "I cannot wait until I get to kill you."

"That isn't a nice thing to say. I have feelings and you're hurting them. Let me tell you about these tapes Maddie and I watch. They're all about meditation and energy. Negative energy has to flow like a river…"

"Oh God…" he groaned.

"Yeah, if you want to let flow through religion, why not? Whatever works for you, buddy."

"I cannot wait until I get to kill you."

"You've said that already. Get some new material. Try something else like, '_The moment I get to put a bullet through brain will be the happiest of my life.' _It has a nice ring to it and it's more poetic, don't you think?"

"I hate you."

"Okay, so that lacks poetry, but I'll give you props for being to the point."


	10. Let's go rescue your mom's boyfriend

_There is nothing as useful as a little misdirection. Sometimes, the only way you can get a step ahead is to throw the other person a few steps back. The only thing more misleading than placing false clues is to follow them._

__A black car pulled into the gravel parking lot beside the boathouse. He watched as Michael Westen and a woman got out of it and headed towards the small shack that housed several boats. He pulled his blackberry out of his pocket and sent the text to his boss.

Michael shut the door gently behind them. There were about seven small row boats scattered throughout the tiny area. Fi sighed heavily. "Great. We get to search a bunch of boats. This really is the way I wanted to spend my day. Not shoe shopping or eating dinner somewhere nice or flipping through my new issue of _Guns and Ammo_…"

"If it isn't too late after we find Sam, we can grab dinner. I'll search the right half of the boats and you can get the left," he replied, having heard the same thing from her since they left the church.

She rolled her eyes and went over to the closest boat on her left. "We're never going to get anything done if old friends of ours keep showing up. Speaking of getting things done, is dinner a date or just dinner?"

He ducked under one of the hanging row boats and started searching it for a piece of paper, purposely avoiding her question. She stopped what she was doing and glared at him through the spaces in between the wooden water crafts.

"Michael? Are you going to answer me?"

"What, Fi? I can't hear you. I'm kind of busy under a boat looking for something to help us find Sam, so…" he called through the bow. He could tell by the frustrated noise that she made that she was shaking her head at him.

"You keep avoiding my questions, Michael. I'm staying in Miami and you seemed happy about it. I'm just a little bit confused on where we stand right now."

"You're staying in Miami because there are a lot of angry Irish guys that want you dead," he clarified without much thought.

"I thought that you couldn't hear me under that boat."

He emerged with a white piece of paper in his hand, skipping over her comment. "I found our clue."

"How'd you find it so quickly?" she asked as she reached for it. He moved it out of her grasp.

"I checked the boat with the M name."

She tried to get it again, only this time he let her take it. She opened it and swiftly handed it back to him. "It's in Kazimir's language."

He read it and nodded. "It's a commercial jingle for a snack bar. There's only one store in Miami I can think of that would carry Czech candy."

"We get to go to a candy store?"

"Yeah."

They started out towards the car. "Do you think that they carry yogurt?" she asked hopefully.

"I doubt it."

The bell on the door clanged loudly against the glass panes. The cashier looked up from the counter with a wide smile as Michael walked in with a woman. They smiled back and started moving slowly down the aisles. He picked up the phone and called in their arrival.

"Look at all the candy from around the world," Fi commented as she wrapped her arm around his. "How'd you find out about this place?"

"Awhile back, I had a contact that would only talk if I got him a special Swedish chocolate cup. This is the only candy store in the city that has a lot of foreign sweets."

She let go of him and moved to a section of all sorts of treats. "They have Cadbury's! I can't believe it. You remember Cadbury's. Don't you, Michael?" she asked while picking up a box of her favorite Irish chocolates.

"Yes, but we have something to find…" he reminded her pointedly. She followed him down the next few rows, but kept the box with her.

They finally reached the Czech bars. He looked through them until he found the one with the paper taped to the bottom. "Warehouse district," he read aloud. "Under that is their word for _'final'_. It looks like Sam is somewhere in there."

She groaned. "I hate the warehouse district. Bad memories. It gives me the creeps."

"Well, it's the final clue. We get to go back to the loft and get ready for the rescue."

"Can I bring my new rifle?" she asked hopefully.

"We have to travel light. It doesn't say where in the warehouse district he is."

She pushed the box of chocolates towards him. "Then you have to buy me these."

He huffed. "Fi, we don't have time to buy-"

"He's _your_ enemy and he took _your_ stepfather. I don't have to help. You're perfectly capable of handling this yourself. I don't get paid to help you and since we aren't dating, I should get _something_ for my trouble. If I can't bring my rifle, you have to buy me chocolate."

He glared at her and walked up to the register. He paid and pushed it towards her with a grumbled, "He isn't my stepfather."

She opened the box with a wicked grin. "_Yet_. Let's go rescue your mom's boyfriend."


	11. No one is this good

_The key to a successful rescue mission isn't always stealth. Sometimes, it's the best option for getting into and out of the building without too many people getting hurt. Then other times, the best way to extract someone is to go in with guns blazing. There's nothing more confusing than chaos. If you can create some, you can do pretty much anything you want._

"So then I said to her, no _you're_ the goat! Hahahahaha!" Sam laughed with tears streaming down his face.

Kazimir rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Yes, making with humor again I see. Can you please SHUT UP?" he shouted.

"Aw. I think someone's cranky. I always find that singing cheers me up. Repeat after me: _When you chance to meet a frown, do not let it stay. Quickly turn it upside down, and smile that frown away…_ Your turn!"

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, shut your mouth! And I thought your talk was bad…" he exclaimed.

"Hey, you should hear me on karaoke nights! I tear the place up! Now where were we? Right: _No one likes a frowning face. Change it for a smile. Make the world a better place by smiling all the while…_ Okay, hit Czech man!"

He hit him across the face and checked the time with a sigh of relief. "I get to kill you in five minutes!"

"Not if Mikey shows up," Sam reminded him confidently.

"He won't! I have people where I led them to. They all check in with me. Your son is following clues like a pigeon follows breadcrumbs. They think you are in the warehouse district when we both know we are in cheap motel."

A loud shot rang out from the door. Kazimir leapt with a scream and moved behind Sam. "You two, go see what's happening!" he barked at his muscle-heads. They both drew their guns and cautiously moved towards the door.

It flew open and a small black canister rolled in. Smoke filled the room in a matter of seconds and three people rushed in side. Kazimir was too busy coughing to notice the fight going on between his men and the dark figures.

The tallest of the three took on the bigger one of his guys. After a few fancy moves, the figure dropped the hired-hand and bound him with a zip tie. The sound of a .45 slide being pulled into place echoed through the room, and the figure held it on his guy with a foot pressed firmly into his back.

One of the other smaller figures took on the other man. It was a short lived hand to hand battle, ending in a gunshot to the foot. He fell and was also bound with a zip tie. Kazimir thought that he heard a conversation between the mysterious trio, but he wasn't sure.

"Fi!"

"What? It was his foot. He'll live."

The smoke slowly started to clear and then a lamp flickered on and he saw who had invaded his motel room. "Westen!"

"Hi Kazimir. I know you were expecting us to not make the deadline, but we've got four minutes and thirty-three seconds to spare," Michael smiled.

"How did you find-" Kazimir stuttered.

"It's a funny story actually. When you let me talk to him, he told me a few things to tell Maddie over here…" he pointed to the woman behind him on his right. She was armed with a shotgun and cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She gave a tiny nod in recognition before he continued his story.

"One of which was something about walking where they first got together. So, I asked her what he meant by that. Turns out, they walked down this strip awhile back. I figured, knowing you, that it would probably be a motel of some kind. When I found the note about a boathouse, I knew that you were trying to mislead me. We made a little stop in between clues where Fi," he paused and motioned to the younger woman on his left, "looked into motels on this strip. You checked in as Harold Oldrich. Normally, you change both your first and last name if you don't want to be found. Just a little tip. And here we are now."

"Do you know what the motto for the Czech Republic is, Mikey?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Truth prevails. You should take a lesson from that Kazimir," Michael nodded.

He looked at them and tried to think of an escape route.

"No other exits," Fi informed him. "We always know all of the exits."

Kazimir grabbed Sam by the throat and held his gun to his head. "You let me go or I kill him!"

Another gun shot rang out and Kazimir grabbed his shin, screaming in pain. Maddie lifted the barrel of her shotgun to her mouth and blew away the smoke with a cloud of her own. "Don't even think about it," she growled.

Michael smiled. "What's going to happen now is that the police are on their way to catch a drug ring."

"Drug ring?" he asked. "I have no drugs."

Fiona stepped out of the room and dropped a duffle bag full of white power onto the bed. "It's only flour, but how was I supposed to know that?"

"So, Kazimir, are you ready to leave my life for good?" Michael inquired with a smirk.

"No one is this good, Westen," he hissed angrily.

"I had help. Meet the team. The guy you took is my friend, Sam. This is my mother, Madeline. And meet my girlfriend, Fiona. We told the police that there were three guys, two bound, and one that might have gotten away. You can leave if you want, but I never want to see or hear from you again. Get going."

He started to hobble to the door. "That guy wasn't your father?" he asked on his way out.

"No. He's just my mom's boyfriend."

"I hate Americans…" Kazimir muttered as he disappeared around the corner.

Madeline rushed to Sam's side and untied him. She fussed over his bruises for a moment or two and then gave him a long, passionate kiss on the lips. Michael sighed and turned his back on the reunion. "Hate to break it up, but the cops are on the way…" he called over his shoulder.

They gathered their things and headed to the cars. Fiona tapped him on the shoulder curiously. "Michael…"

"Yeah, Fi?"

"You called me your girlfriend."

"Does that answer your question?"

She smiled and took his arm in hers.

"Do I get some of that candy now since you said it was because we weren't dating?" he asked.

"No. I still didn't get to bring my new rifle."

"I let you shoot someone."

"No you didn't. I shot them because I had to, not because you let me."

"But it's _Cadbury's_."

"You only get some if you take me to dinner."

"Fine."

"And invite Sam and Madeline."

He groaned. "Fine. We'll all go to dinner."


	12. I'm not going to call you Dad

_At the end of a hard mission, there's nothing better than celebrating. Sometimes, the celebration can be bittersweet. For example, saving your best friend's life is something to be happy about. But then having to watch your mother fuss over him at the dinner table is less than fun. _

"I was so worried! You should have seen how we worked to save you," Madeline said for the millionth time. "But look at what they did to you!"

"Yeah, what did you do to make him hit you that much? Kazimir was never that violent," Michael agreed followed by a sip of his beer.

"I drove him crazy. I wouldn't shut up. I even sang this song they used to sing to us in Sunday school when I was a kid. It was the most fun I've ever had while being held hostage before!" he laughed. "Even if he was ready to pull the trigger _before_ the time limit ran out."

"You sang?" Fi asked, attempting to keep the laughter inside.

"Oh yeah. I sang my heart out and he had the nerve to tell me to shut my mouth. It was a beautiful melody. Do you want to hear?"

"No," they all said in unison.

He frowned. "You haven't heard me sing before. How can you know that it'll be bad?"

"I've heard you sing, Sam. Remember Venezuela, 1995?" Michael reminded him. They both started to laugh.

"Yes. The bet!" Sam nodded. "I lost a bet and had to sing the national anthem in American flag shorts and a trucker hat that said something on it…"

"If you aren't American," Michael started and they finished together, "kiss my patriotic ass."

"You really did that?" Fi chuckled in disbelief.

"Yeah. Not one of my finer moments…"

"I think that's adorable. Michael and Nate did something like that once. Didn't you, Michael?" Maddie asked.

He dropped his head to the table. "Please not the '_God bless America'_ story…"

"They were just boys then. It was so cute! They dressed up as soldiers for Halloween and Frank would only let them carry the toy guns if they worked on singing God Bless America. So right before they went trick or treating, they sang it and he let them carry their guns."

"I didn't sing really. It was all Nate," Michael tried to backpedal.

"You sang too! You were as into it as Nate was…Nate! I haven't told him about Sam and I yet! He has to come down for dinner with us sometime! I'm going to go call him right now!" she got up and pressed a quick kiss to Sam's cheek and rushed outside to place the call.

"You should go over too! Then you can give an encore performance," Fi teased. He glared at her.

"It was all Nate. I swear."

She just smiled and kissed him quickly. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go freshen up." Her eyes pointedly turned towards Sam and she excused herself.

"Listen Sam, I've been meaning to talk to you about things…"

"Hey Mike, I get it. You need time. It's weird, I know. I would have told you if you weren't so busy with everything else and Fi. Which I see you two worked out."

"Yeah. We did. I just wanted you to know…you and Mom, I'm…okay with it."

"Really?"

"I can see that you really like each other, so I'll just back off and be happy for you. Thanks for protecting her like that. I owe you."

"Wow, Mike. I never thought I'd hear you say that. You're welcome, brother. I'd do anything for you and Maddie."

"There are just a few little things we need to go over before I really give you my blessing."

"Name them."

"No making out in front of me."

"Got it."

"No Sam lady talk. No 'Sammy time' or 'Pumpkin' or any of that."

"Okay. Anything else."

"If you hurt her, I'll hurt you."

"Don't worry about that. I'd never hurt her."

"Good. One last thing."

"What is it?"

"I'm not going to call you Dad."

**The end**


End file.
